Jonathan C. Evans MA, Doctoral Candidate

Comic books and graphic novels are a wonderful complex combination of written text and visual images. Unlike movies, there is no spoken dialogue and moving pictures, this is more like storyboards and the script being packaged and processed for consumption. So, how does someone read a comic book? Many, from Scott McCloud to Will Eisner, have defined comics but ultimately they serve to convey stories via aesthetics. One might think about hieroglyphics or the Bayeux Tapestry as an example. In Language as Symbolic Action, Kenneth Burke identified the overlooked realization that symbols and visual imagery play an incredibly crucial role in human interaction on a daily basis. From the letters that form our language to the gestures and choice of clothing, everything humans do involves the use of symbols and imagery. Chaim Perelman and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca, in The New Rhetoric, indicate a similar deficiency in the realm of argumentation, in the overlooked the power of presence. Presence, like imagery, plays upon the sentiments of the human mind and is crucial in engaging an audience and attempting to gain their adherence to your message. Superman is more than a mere comic book superhero, he is an example of ‘symbolic presence’ that serves to illustrate, as a model, the better qualities of humanity which Chaim Perelman and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca discuss in The New Rhetoric, and which find expression via Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely’s All-Star Superman.

When Kenneth Burke noted the inherent connection between man and his use of symbols with the phrase ‘Man is a symbol using animal,’[1] he was identifying the overlooked revelation that symbols and visual imagery play an incredibly crucial role in human interaction on a daily basis. From the letters that form our language to the gestures and choice of clothing, everything humans do involves the use of symbols and imagery. Chaim Perelman and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca, in The New Rhetoric, indicate a similar deficiency in the realm of argumentation, in the overlooked the power of presence. Presence, like imagery, plays upon the sentiments of the human mind and is crucial in engaging an audience and attempting to gain their adherence to your message. The medium, sometimes genre, of comic books and graphic novels[2]represents a loci where ideas of symbolic meaning and imagery gather with ideas of conveying presence to an audience. One particular character and one particular work that embodies an excellent example of this ‘symbolic presence’ is the comic book superhero Superman—as depicted in Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely’s All-Star Superman.[3] Morrison and Quitely’s Superman stands out as a powerful argument for the inspiration and betterment of humanity by utilizing the illustration and modeling provided by Superman to generate a representation, an illumination, of many of the concepts that Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca discuss.

The New Rhetoric and Presence

In The New Rhetoric, Chaim Perelman and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca set out to create a new way of looking and thinking about argumentation in the twentieth century. They state that when someone makes choices on which elements to present to their audience, that choice:

Endows [those] elements with a presence, which is an essential factor in argumentation and one that is far too much neglected in rationalistic conceptions of reasoning [perhaps because it] acts directly on our sensibility.[4]

Among many others, Robert E. Tucker notes in his article ‘Figure, Ground and Presence’ that the idea of presence is too abstract a concept for many who want to identify a more concrete term or trope. Tucker particularly states that the idea of presence has been much maligned and ‘criticized as “ambiguous” and “nothing more than a psychological concept” . . . abandoned by rhetorical scholars.’[5] The realization, however abstract or intuitive it may be, remains something of importance even if one wishes to ignore it; its power to impact arguments and ideas remains. Simply because one cannot physically identify or pin it down does not discount presence’s value. Looking at images, for instance (as one does in comic books), is able to randomly generate pathos in a viewer, sometimes in unintended ways; this is a power worthy of acknowledgment.

Presence is inherently linked to visual perception. It has often been remarked that a picture of one starving child is more persuasively powerful than statistics citing the starvation of millions.[6]

Images, as stated above, generate pathos and are affective illustrations of points and examples that a rhetor may wish to make. So, an image of Superman saving the world might just have the power to ‘vividly’ depict, as the character of Superman did for Nietzsche’s idea of the Übermensch, a more persuasive and impressionable illustration of an idea than the idea alone. Presence derives its ability from its illustration of vivid images. Comic books, as a medium, can provide these kinds of ‘vivid’ images and colors to engage the audience. Returning to The New Rhetoric, Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca state that ‘illustration seeks to increase presence by making an abstract rule concrete by means of a particular case’, thus tending to give physical formation to abstract ideas.[7] Superman is a powerful image, a vivid image, brought to life on the pages of the medium of comic books (that is, the idea of a selfless hero is ‘made concrete’ in the illustration of Superman). This ‘vividness’ resonates in a way, a symbolic way, which borders upon the ceremonial and ritualistic in its influential power.

This idea of ‘vividness’ plays well with Scott McCloud’s definition of symbols as ‘the images we use to represent concepts, ideas, and philosophies.’[8] Superman in Morrison’s All-Star Superman is clearly being depicted as a symbol. Superman can stand for many things, most commonly that he is seen as the signifier, the sign,[9] of an abstract idea or concept such as ‘truth, justice, and the American way.’ The idea and the comic book character have become synonymous with a metaphor for what is great in America, the ideal, a metaphor for human, and particularly American, potential.

Comic books are metaphors in the visual sense. Robert N. St. Clair points out that ‘visual metaphors are just another way in which knowledge can be shared’ and within oral cultures in particular, he notes, ‘visual metaphors [are a] way of symbolizing . . . beliefs about the world.’[10] Superman then, in turn, represents, symbolically (and this is how Grant Morrison depicts him in All-Star Superman), what American culture and culture at large hold up as admirable and good. Superman is not only a signifier of these values but also an amplification of human ideals. He has amplification on one level because Superman has powers that ordinary people can only dream about; however, it is more than that. Comic books are themselves a form of ‘amplification.’ McCloud hits upon the key when he notes that illustrations, particularly cartoons (which comics are an illustrated medium of) are ‘a form of amplification through simplification.’[11] In other words comics, like cartoons, can create presence by utilizing rhetorical figures such as amplification, along with metaphor, allusion, and others, to create a way of taking complex ideas and expressing them succinctly but often with a means of generating more presence than possible in other mediums.

Comic books and comic book superheroes both have presence precisely because they embody presence and give a visual form to the ideas, concepts, and myths that have journeyed with humanity since our earliest times—a new kind of old mythology. Comic books have a built in power to persuade an audience in ways that exemplify the notions of presence as acting upon ‘our sensibilities.’[12]

Grant Morrison, Frank Quitely, and All-Star Superman

In All-Star Superman, Grant Morrison, along with artist Frank Quitely, engages, as many other comic book writers and artists do when they tell stories; in providing a ‘demonstration’ for their audience. They are utilizing words and images to attract their audience and engage them in the message that they are seeking to present. McCloud ascribes that ‘we [humans] see ourselves in everything. We assign identities and emotions where none exist. And we make the world over in our image.’[13] This, in a way, speaks to what and how presence works, even more in visual forms of rhetoric, on the ‘sensibilities’ of individuals and groups of individuals. Take this idea of ‘making the world over in our image’ and imagine what the character Superman, in fact, represents. He is the Nietzschean Übermensch, the superman, and the Platonic ideal of what humans attempt, desire in some cases, to be like—he is what we assign meaning to as the aim of human achievement and aspiration.

The character of Superman has presence and via this presence he embodies another of Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca’s concepts, that of model. The concept of a model exists ‘in the realm of conduct, [as] particular behavior [that] may serve, not only to establish or illustrate a general rule, but also incite to . . . action [those] inspired by it.’[14] Superman is what human achievement and aspiration aim for; we want to reach for the stars. Why not? Humans created him. Grant Morrison’s depiction of Superman in All-Star Superman serves as one long illustration of how Superman generates presence and stands out as a ‘model’ for what humanity itself should and could strive to achieve.

On second page of All-Star Superman, literally at the very opening of the story, Morrison and Quitely provide a vivid depiction of Superman’s journey to Earth in one page.[15] The artwork provides a strong ‘illustration’ of presence without the need for a great deal of dialogue—a fact noted by the dialogue being virtually bullet points.[16] Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca establish that whilst ‘an example is designed to establish a rule, the role of illustration is to strengthen adherence to a known or accepted rule, by providing particular instances which clarify.’[17] Superman’s arrival on Earth has been chronicled many times over, even in film, but to see Quitely’s succinct work grants this depiction/illustration a strengthening of ‘adherence’ by its ability to convey this message, this complicated idea, in a mere four panels. Morrison’s limited dialogue punctuates, and pops against the rich images, stating: ‘Doomed Planet. Desperate Scientists. Last Hope. Kindly Couple.’[18] The imagery here is loaded with illustrations of self-sacrifice (the image of Superman’s parents, the ‘Desperate Scientists’) and selflessness (Jonathan and Martha Kent, the ‘Kindly Couple’) as Superman fell to Earth from the heavens of another world. The opening page of this comic book is a spectacular illustration of the ‘example’ that self-sacrifice and helping others is the working premise behind Superman’s selfless nature.

With regards to actions of a ‘model,’ Perelman notes: ‘Persons . . . whose prestige confers added value on their acts may be used as models.’[19] Who could achieve greater acts than a superhero, such as Superman, who is at the peak of his powers and able to fly, see through walls, use laser vision, super strength, and is invincible? However, Morrison does not highlight these abilities alone; instead he admits to Superman’s greater power, the power to inspire and save us before we even know we need saving. Following Superman’s leaving Lois for ‘someone’ who needs him, the reader finds him on the very next page with the image of a young girl standing on a building ledge.[20] Instead of waiting for her to jump, and Superman swooping in to save her, Morrison and Quitely have Superman save this young woman, who feels despair and is unable to cope with the world, in a different fashion. Superman saves her by giving her part of his strength, his hope. Appearing behind her as she is getting ready to jump, Superman tells her: ‘Your doctor really did get held up Regan. It’s never as bad as it seems. You’re much stronger than you think you are. Trust me.’—at which point she hugs him[21]. This one panel alone is a powerful and moving illustration of the strength that Superman has, not physically, but rather as a model and ‘hope’ for humanity.

Though Morrison and Quitely’s story might seem a bit idealistic in tone, not accounting for the darker elements of humanity, as what McCloud terms a kind of ‘amplification through simplification,’[22] the story does acknowledge that not everything is idealistic. The narrative contains dark turns, struggles, and is overshadowed by the reality that Superman is dying. He revisits the moment of his first failure—to save the life of his adopted father Jonathan Kent from a heart attack. In addition, Morrison and Quitely temporarily remove Superman from the narrative on Earth for a time, having him replaced by two Kryptonian astronauts who show up during his absence. These two individuals are fellow survivors of Superman’s home world, but they are not like Superman. From the cover of issue 9 of the original run comes the title ‘Curse of the Replacement Supermen.’[23] This image, and this story, confront part of what makes Superman the model he is: his upbringing on Earth, his ‘human’ values. What one is confronted with in this image is two figures, of equal strength and ability to Superman, but lacking his selfless attitude, his desire to help others. The image here presents a type of ‘anti-model’ for the viewer. Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca note that whilst ‘reference to a model makes it possible to encourage a particular kind of behavior, reference to an anti-model or foil serves to deter people from it.’[24] However, these characters are eventually reformed by Superman, shown how to treat humans as more than mere cattle; a more appropriate foil, the true ‘anti-model,’ is found in Superman’s nemesis, Lex Luthor.

Luthor plays an important part in the final climax of this narrative when he obtains Superman’s powers, becoming his own kind of anti-Superman. Strikingly though, in the midst of his rampage, even Luthor is forced into an illustration of the anti-model who ‘turns us away from his course of action.’[25] This ‘turning away’ develops when Luthor has an epiphany under the influence of Superman’s powers.[26] Luthor sees the world as Superman sees it, as the model sees it and has a moment of revelation that opens his eyes, as his actions have served to open the eyes of a reader, that this course of action is incorrect.

Beyond the Real, to the Ideal

Superman is an amplification of human ideals. He does not do this in the traditional format of simply words or images, but through words and images, as Perelman notes as a ‘development of a theme.’[27] Superman generates presence via his embodiment, demonstration, and amplification of human ideals. Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, in turn, capture these elements through the medium of comic books by skillfully crafting scenes and words that express these tropes.[28] In this last exampleone finds Superman kissing Lois Lane on the moon. The image sets them there, with the Earth as backdrop in a scene of romantic embrace that idealizes and demonstrates one of humanity’s greatest abilities—to love one another—illustrated through the love of Superman and Lois Lane, amplified through their setting and serving as a metaphor for humanity as a whole: a hope.

As it has been stated throughout this paper, Superman carries an air of presence within him. One could produce his emblematic ‘S’ to almost anyone on the street today and more than likely they could tell you that it belonged to Superman. Kenneth Burke, along with other theorists in the twentieth century, has noted that humanity has and continues to use symbols and imagery as powerful illustrations of the examples and ideas that we have in order to more potently convey them and gain the adherence of our audiences. The realm of comic books is not simply for children, but represents a very real medium of expression, a loci, where words and images combine to generate texts that can inspire, persuade, and motivate individuals to adhere to their ideal beliefs.